Accolades
by nursehelena
Summary: It's been ten years, since Mike Schmidt lost his younger brother to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. Six, since he lost his best friend. If Mike wants this insanity to end, he's going to have to do it himself.
1. Save Them

Mike hardly needed to put any energy into his pranks. His younger brother was notoriously easy to frighten. Freddy was the type of kid that couldn't even watch Winnie the Pooh, because he'd cry every time Christopher Robin got lost. He was too upset to watch the entire episode, to find out that Christopher made it back home. To Freddy, it was best that Christopher never enter the forest in the first place.

Freddy even cried when Mom and Dad announced their plans for his birthday party come Saturday. The three of them (and Mike, if he wanted to go) would pile into the car and head downtown for a fun-filled afternoon at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. The animatronics were all the rage amongst Freddy's friends, and they were too cheery and fun to be terrifying. And yet, Freddy burst into tears at the news.

Mom and Dad told Freddy it was too late to change their plans. They'd too grown tired of Freddy's hysteria, which seemed acceptable when he was five and six, but now that seven years of age snuck up on their younger son, it was time for him to start facing his fears instead of running away. Obviously, facilitating that was doing nothing to help Freddy adjust to the world they'd brought him into.

Mike was helping. That was his excuse, anyway. The theory he'd formulated along with Jeremy, Julian, and Mark up in his treehouse was that they'd terrify the living wits out of Freddy, he'd survive his birthday, and then he'd realize just how big of a baby he'd been all this time.

Thus led to this brilliant prank. Jeremy called the house after dinner, asking if Mike could come play in the street until dark. Mom said yes, since Mike had preemptively done enough chores to butter her up toward it, and so after unlocking his bedroom window, Mike made enough of a show in leaving that his family would truly believe him gone. As carefully as he could, after disappearing down the street, Mike snuck back. Jeremy gave him a boost to slip into his window. Although there was a moment where Mike hit the floor too hard and thought his father heard him, he'd succeeded thus far.

Phase two was to collect the Foxy mask from his closet and sneak into his brother's room at an opportune moment. The annoying thing about Freddy was that he spent all evening in there, only ever leaving to use the bathroom before going to sleep. Mike waited with waning patience for this moment, nearly considering giving up a handful of times, before Freddy padded his way down the hallway past Mike. As soon as the toilet flushed, Mike risked his creaking door and made a dash down the hallway. He'd already popped out at Freddy from under the bed, a cheap thrill, but tonight would be much better.

Freddy, like any over-imaginative child, kept his closet door shut at all times. Mike made his way in, then got comfortable on the carpeted floor. He might sit here for up to half an hour, until Freddy was ready to try and go to sleep. Less than three minutes later, Freddy reemerged in his room with Mom in tow.

"Do you want me to read you something, sweetie?" Mom asked.

"Just tell me a happy story."

That was always cue for the most boring things to ever come out of Mom's mouth. That was saying lots, considering she had plenty to tell Mike about things he'd have to worry about as a grown-up, like bills, responsibility, and budgeting. Mom's stories for Freddy lacked in any sort of struggle, so there were no real plots. Tonight's story was a riveting retell of a family of bunnies that lived together under a nice tree, with plenty of food, a warm place to sleep, and everybody got along really well. There were no tales of foxes trying to sneak off with the most vulnerable family members, or even one of the anthropomorphic animals dealing with something like bunny bullies in their stupid little bunny school. Mike rolled his eyes with every sentence Mom uttered, because he knew Freddy lapped it right up.

Whatever peace he gained through this, Mike would soon rob of him. That was at least some consolation.

Soon enough, Freddy ceased to ask what came next in this so-called 'story'. Mom took that as her cue to leave after first turning on Freddy's night light, then shutting off his bedside lamp. Finally, she left. Mike could hear her muffled voice through the walls, where she joined Dad in the living room for some late-night television. His name was mentioned, but not in any serious or worrisome tone. Mike always made it home, so they didn't mind that he stayed out a little later than expected with his friends. It only meant that he was having fun. Maybe he'd leave his little brother alone, if he was distracted.

Mike almost laughed. The fear of giving himself away after so much build-up toward this, though, kept him straight.

Freddy's breathing was growing longer, more relaxed. This was the opportune time. With the fingernails Mike trained himself not to chew all week, he gently scratched the inside of the closet door. Louder, when there was no reaction. Finally, Freddy's breathing abruptly stopped. Mike imagined he could hear his heart pounding in his ears, while immobilized with fear.

Sure enough, Freddy warbled at the house at large: "Mom? Dad?"

More talking in the living room. Mom and Dad debated over who had to come deal with Freddy's nightly fright. Finally, Dad emerged. "What is it, kiddo?"

"I think there's something in the closet."

"It's just your imagination. Go to sleep, Freddy."

"I can't. Something's going to kill me."

"Nothing's going to hurt you. Go to sleep."

It took everything for Dad to leave, without tending to his now-crying son. There were no sobs, but Mike knew Freddy too well to assume otherwise. Sure enough, a sniffle came a moment later. Be a big boy, Freddy. Go to sleep. Ignore the monster in your closet.

Mike sat in utter stillness as Freddy calmed back down. Maybe there wasn't anything in here after all. Maybe Freddy just imagined it. Maybe Mom and Dad were right.

Wrong. As soon as Freddy's breathing evened back out for long enough, Mike ran his nails down the inside of the closet door again. He had to stifle a snicker as Freddy popped up in his bed. He was too scared to run for their parents. That would entail passing too closely to the closet. Big no-no.

Mike actually had to commend what Freddy did next. Rather than break down into his usual tears, he turned on the bedside lamp. When he'd normally call for Mom or Dad again, he slipped out of bed. Every step brought him closer to the closet. Mike almost felt bad to rip away all this progress his little brother made.

Almost.

A tentative hand reached out for the closet handle. As soon as there was enough space in the gap for Mike to fit his fingers, he yanked the door open the rest of the way and launched at Freddy with the scariest growl he could muster, through laughter. It didn't matter what kind of noise Mike made. Freddy was still easily bowled over, stunned stupid. He screamed like he'd never screamed before, once he regained his wits. Mike made him fear for his very life. Even Mom and Dad, who knew there existed no such thing as a monster in the closet, came running. Mike pulled the Foxy mask off in order to avoid a kick in the side from rapid-fire protective parental instincts.

Mom and Dad went from shocked to furious. "Mike! What the hell is the matter with you? Why would you scare your little brother like that?"

Mike couldn't answer. He howled and howled with laughter, while Freddy pathetically crawled over to their parents and wrapped his arms loosely around Mom's legs. He was too exhausted of emotion—and piss, judging by the small wet spot on both the carpet and his pyjamas—to even cry.

Was such an elaborate ploy cruel and unusual? Definitely, but for a fifteen year old with a seven year old brother, the punishment fit the crime of being a ginormous piss-baby. Mike excitedly relayed the tale to his friends, as soon as he could break free of the house the next day. He'd almost been grounded—barred from coming to Freddy Fazbear's on Saturday—but he showed too much faked glee for his parents to stick with that. If he thought he'd have better, fun things to do on his weekend, he'd best think again. It was absolutely required that he come, now. His friends were no longer invited, but that didn't strike their autonomy for showing up on their own outside of the birthday party.

Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria was delightfully creepy come Saturday, in that way that only adults could see. Kids lapped up the upbeat songs that Golden Freddy and Golden Bonnie played, as well as their creepy movements, while those more mature stood to the side and looked in at tacky art imitating life. When their setlist ended, the stage-limited animatronics automatically powered down. The other three main franchise characters, Freddy Fazbear, Chica, and Bonnie, took over full interaction with the kids now.

"Gotta wonder why they'd make their eyes so big and lifeless," Jeremy posed as he, Mike, Julian, and Mark studied the scene from the side. Jeremy sipped his milkshake thoughtfully. "Is it supposed to be like that thing, where big eyes are subconscious markers for someone more open and honest?"

"Nothin' honest about _these_ things," Julian said. "Mike, didja tell Freddy about that kid that went missing at the old diner?"

"You bet." Mike traumatized his brother with it long before this idea for a party even came up. Freddy cautiously endured Freddy Fazbear's in past, until Mike swung by Wise Primary one day on his way home from school to take his little brother. They took a longer route by the old Fredbear Family Diner on Lake Street. Freddy asked once why they went this way rather than their usual trek up Birch, but fell quiet when he was given a vague, half-formulated answer. Ever since then, Freddy couldn't stand to step foot inside the current location. At least knowledge that no one was ever put away for the crime would keep Freddy's eyes open to potential danger. "Look at him. Bet he's thinking about that, right now."

Freddy watched a couple of his friends play in the small game area. While one of them was on a hot streak, the noise attracted Bonnie. The closer it moved, the paler Freddy grew. Once Bonnie was too close in all its creepy cuteness, Freddy streaked off in the opposite direction. Mike laughed along with his friends as Freddy crawled under a table, drew his knees to his chest, and buried his face in his arms.

"Your brother is such a little crybaby," Mark guffawed. "I love it."

So did Mike. There was no better way to kill an afternoon. "Watch this."

Feigning the type of sympathy an older brother should probably be capable of, Mike left his Foxy mask with Jeremy and crawled in under the table to join Freddy. Freddy jumped a little, but calmed as soon as he saw Mike's smiling face. It was amazing, that he could still trust his bigger brother after being tormented so intensely for so long.

"What's wrong?"

Freddy shrugged. "I don't like it here. It's scary."

"I feel ya, pal. Those things are pretty creepy."

"You think so too?"

"Well, yeah. But that's because I ain't a kid anymore. You should enjoy this kind of stuff while you can. It all goes away, once you're old enough."

"I can't wait," Freddy miserably replied.

"Hey." Mike placed a hand on his little brother's shoulder. It wasn't easy, given how much he had to bow his head in order to fit under the table in the first place. "Why don't you come hang out with me and the guys for a while? Maybe you'll feel better."

Utter relief overtook Freddy. Mike almost felt bad to have once again gained his trust, only to commit something underhanded. He, Jeremy, Julian, and Mark certainly hadn't planned for it, but one shared look was enough to transport an idea around the group.

Taking the initiative, Jeremy bent down to Freddy's eye level. "Hey sport, happy birthday."

"Thanks."

"It's almost like this place was meant for you, huh? How's it feel to share a name with the main attraction?"

Freddy shrugged.

"Come on, let's go find him." Jeremy took Freddy's hand. "He should still be on stage, just about ready to sing you Happy Birthday!"

"N-no, I don't. . .Mike?"

Freddy's quiet plea went ignored, as Mike took Freddy's other hand. "Come on, hey? We'll show you, there's nothing scary about the animatronics."

"I really don't want to. . ."

His protests continued to fall on deaf ears, as the four teenaged boys carted Freddy toward the stage area. Food and games still distracted the kids, and supervision of their own kept the adults at bay. Another shared look amongst the older boys launched Freddy from his safe position on the floor before the currently lifeless Golden Freddy. He seemed to run on the same motion-sensor technology as the others. Freddy let out a subdued scream as Golden Freddy's eyes lit up and his head lifted from its rested position against his chest.

"Here." Mike lifted Freddy toward Golden Freddy. "Why don'tcha give him a big kiss?"

Freddy's head bumped against Golden Freddy's jaw, in their excitement. Mike laughed, deaf to Freddy's terrified pleading to be let back down. He repeated his suggestion, and said he wouldn't let Freddy down until he did as he said. The motion-sensor technology that alerted Golden Freddy to his audience triggered him into motion. When 'Happy Birthday' began to play, thanks to Golden Bonnie playing his keyboard behind Golden Freddy, Golden Freddy's jaw moved. A simultaneous shove from Mike, Jeremy, Julian, and Mark put Freddy's head in perfect range of his teeth to do serious damage.

No machine intended to be around children in this manner should have such crushing power, though. Nothing strong enough to crush a skull. Maybe if Mike could understand Freddy's screaming as an actual sign of distress, rather than his usual behaviour, they would have extracted him in time. Instead, they all lessened their grip as the nastiest crack any of them ever heard echoed throughout the stage area.

It was only there for a second, before Golden Freddy's jaws clamped down, but its lifeless eyes ceased to automatically scan its imaginary audience. They landed on Mike, who, before its jaw pulled upward on his little brother's head, seemed to understand their mutual agreement. Golden Freddy would accept his proffered meal, and at the same time make rid of the annoying little runt that lived at Mike's house. While the four of them watched on in horror as Freddy ceased to struggle, slow footsteps approached to their rear. Mike turned, to find Chica with her unassuming, happy grin. The racket had attracted her.

She lifted the tray she carried, half-laden with cupcakes. Offered them all one.

* * *

That moment, as well as everything leading up to it, was what Mike thought about for years following, before falling asleep every night. It defined his entire life. Before all this, he could be a carefree albeit stupid kid. It was one hell of a shitty way to wind down 1983. In ways, it had never ended. The near-decade that since passed existed in some form of stasis. On November 3rd, barely within the two week mark of Freddy's ten-year death anniversary, the nightmares had grown even worse. Why? Because of one stupid little ad in the Coalfield Progress.

The Freddy Fazbear franchise had been through nearly as much hell as Mike. They'd started over three times, and Mike had juggled homes just as frequently. Death followed that place around like a curse. Mike had his own share of bad luck. He hadn't spoken to Mom and Dad or their new respective families in years, he'd lost all his friends, and failed to trade off with future prospects. It was, in fact, while searching for a new job after being laid off from the county as a janitor, that he saw the advertisement in the employment section. Not only had he never stepped foot in Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria since Freddy's accident, he certainly didn't need a reminder of what happened to Jeremy four years after that. What happened to the most recent security guard, to need a replacement?

One of the main reasons Mike preferred to work nights was that he simply couldn't sleep through them. He did better in the day, when terror wouldn't keep him awake between snatched minutes of rest. It was almost a cruel joke, that the Fazbear security guard job was something along the lines of what he looked for. The hours were perfect, anyway. Midnight to six in the morning, Wednesday through Sunday. Even though it was minimum wage, he'd gotten the same pay for less hours, and still managed to survive. He didn't eat much. Didn't need any special kind of phone service, or a vehicle. The only thing he really needed was his cable connection and the roof over his head.

He rented a room in a house where, for three quarters of the year, university students filled the rest of it. Most of them probably didn't even realize he lived here. Mike only came out of his room at night, except when he had to purchase necessities and pay bills. In this case, it was a job. He'd been out of work long enough for his circadian rhythm to shift. That wasn't a good thing. His body ached to sleep at night, with nothing real to stay up for, and thus the nightmares returned to full force.

Mike returned within them to his childhood home, on Coolridge Road. To his old room, in fact. He wasn't fifteen years old though, but seven. Freddy's age. His room was decorated with the same stupid toys, not his Zeppelin or Beatles posters. And he was very, very afraid.

The neighbour's dog barked incessantly, as if it knew something was wrong about this night. Mike was supposedly alone in the house, and yet, dishes gently clattered in the kitchen. Someone else was here, he _knew_ it. The worst thing was, if he didn't get up to see, to scare it away, it would get _him_ first.

His alarm clock read 4:23 am. There were still hours to go until sunrise. Why hadn't Mike locked his doors, before going to bed? He could've avoided this entire mess. Footsteps in the hallway paced back and forth, down by the living room. Whomever they belonged to obviously waited for some sign as to where Mike was. The animatronics at Freddy Fazbear's were tuned for such a thing. Mike needed to be absolutely silent.

He slipped out of bed, flashlight gripped so tightly his heart beat in his hand. The footsteps migrated toward the right hallway, so that's where Mike went. He couldn't see anything when he peered around the door frame, although he knew something was there. Shaking, Mike took a deep breath and turned on the flashlight.

As expected, Golden Freddy stalked him. Freddy only whet his appetite, and gave the animatronic a taste for human flesh—Schmidts in particular. Before Mike could react, he looked in at three inlaid sets of sharp teeth, ready to tear him to pieces.

It was currently 5:42 am. Mike hadn't bothered with sleep since that recurring nightmare yet again woke him.

He'd left his room, more comfortable sitting in the well-lit kitchen. The Progress issue that anyone neglected to throw out still situated on the table. He ignored it at first, but as the night and his thoughts progressed, he knew what he needed to do. For six years, he'd debated whether or not Jeremy was right. The only person that could fix this, could make the curse end, was Mike.

Freddy Fazbear's opened at 11 am. Mike ended up going back to bed for a while when his housemates stirred, and placed his call at 11:10. "Hi, I'm calling regarding the security position advertised in the newspaper. . .?"


	2. You Can't

Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria loomed ahead of Mike, beneath a dull November sky. This was its fourth location over the course of eighteen years, and he couldn't understand how it managed to survive this long. The diner of course didn't last as a Ma-and-Pa-type, but that probably said more about the tenacity of Big Business than whomever Fazbear Entertainment initially bought this trademark from.

Perhaps things could've been different, with this place. The murdered child might have been a one-off occurrence. However, whether Freddy's death resulted from the black hole of luck experienced by this place or actively contributed to it, Mike had no idea. Despite that, the restaurant still had a few successful years throughout the mid-eighties. Children went missing there once in a while throughout, but that was explained away as a children's restaurant providing a hub for predators. The investigation that led to the arrest of an employee was what struck the franchise off its feet. Jeremy's injury six months later kept it thus far in perennial flailing motion.

Management probably should've just given up, after that. Everything from the environment to the animatronics were obviously too dangerous. And yet, here it all was. They'd downsized heavily since 1987, but they hadn't given in yet to the good fight.

Finally summoning the nerve to step inside, Mike found Golden Freddy and Golden Bonnie replaced at the stage area with upgraded models of Freddy Fazbear, Chica, and Bonnie. He couldn't believe now that he'd ever come here, for _any_ reason. What would his parents think? He didn't even know how to get hold of them anymore, to ask. Dad, his wife, and their daughter lived somewhere in Richmond. Mom, her husband, and the boy and girl she'd taken in as stepchildren were lost to Mike in Kentucky. Or Tennessee. He couldn't even remember which. Mike had no way to contact them, nor any way to rely on them in such a tough situation. Neither could talk him out of this, before someone finally noticed him.

"Hey there!" A guy Mike hadn't ever seen around before approached, enthusiastically punching the palm of his opposite hand. "You Mike?"

"Yes."

"Okay, good. It's not all the time you see some random guy wander in from the street. Not always desirable, you know?"

He laughed, but a chill rode down Mike's spine when he saw that the animatronics on stage all stared vacantly at him. Jeremy mentioned back in the day that the animatronics had been fitted with facial recognition technology. These ones compared him right this minute to the child predator databases they were connected to.

"Fritz, by the way." Fritz extended his hand, shaking Mike's with great fervour. "Fritz Smith. I'm the day manager. Thanks for answering the ad so quickly."

Day manager? "Scott's not around anymore?"

"You actually just missed him. Well, by that I mean he moved on last week. Saturday was his last day. Or, Sunday was, but he was chomping at the bit to get out of here, I guess."

"That's too bad. What was he moving onto?" Mike followed Fritz through the dining area, back toward the Employees Only section. Overworked college kids brushed by with more pizza for the families that came here today, while Mike idly wondered if one or any of these guys happened to be his housemates without his knowledge.

"He has family up in Cleveland. He didn't talk much about them, but I overheard a phone conversation one day. Mom was sick. She was probably slipping too quickly for him to care about one more night here, after so many years. The higher-ups are a little miffed, but I'd personally forgive the fella of a grudge if it were up to me."

"Yeah." Scott had done so much for the restaurant. Mike knew that, even without being around. Jeremy got to know Scott a bit while working as the night security guard, and although Mike never noticed as a teenager, Scott was here the day that Freddy got hurt. In fact, it was Scott that flipped the breakers for the stage and allowed Freddy a week longer of life before he finally succumbed to his injuries. Jeremy never mentioned whether or not Scott was here when the diner was still open, but Mike didn't doubt it. No way could this place run so smoothly if it started right over from scratch every single time it reopened. With Scott onboard, the newest owners or operators had a walking and talking manual, constantly ruminating on further ways they could better the place.

"Anyway, if you want to throw your stuff down wherever," Fritz invited Mike to do, once they'd reached the office. The breeze from a fan greeted him, after passing by the stifling heat of the kitchens. It wasn't a very cold day outside either, for this time of year. "I can give you the floor tour. You've been here before, right?"

"Only the Birchfield location, when I was younger." Without his jacket on, Mike halved in size. Compared to the muscles hiding beneath Fritz' work shirt, Mike resembled a string bean. He was also consciously aware of the fact that compared to Fritz, who probably had five or six years of age on him, he had less hair since his hairline already began to recede. Fritz pulled off the babyface look just fine, whereas Mike probably looked like a pedophile with his gaunt cheeks, sallow tone, and general inability to smile. No wonder the animatronics' gazes followed him toward the east hall. They must have algorithms, to determine which patrons were more likely than others to harm a child. Creepy. Useful, considering the clean record this place boasted since Jeremy's accident, but creepy.

"So you probably know the layout then, huh?" Fritz asked. "I'll show you around, anyway. Not that there's very much to see, but it'll be good for you to get familiar with the place before you're expected to see anything out of the ordinary on camera."

"Thanks." Mike folded his jacket over the back of the office chair.

"I'll also apologize in advance that I can't tell you absolutely everything you need to know. Luckily, that's still left for Scott. He made some tapes over the course of his last week to pass onto his successor. They should come in a lot more handy than me."

"Cool."

"Anyway, let's get that tour underway. I'll introduce you to everyone, too."

Mike noticed the same trend here that existed in any sort of customer service job. The bubbly extroverts worked in the front with the patrons, and those who Mike related mostly with worked in the back. One of the line cooks already looked as if his will to live had been sucked out by this place. Maybe he'd just been here longer than most of the others. It was also easy to tell that this place didn't have much budget for maintenance. The wallpaper peeled in places, and a lot of everything needed to be replaced. The animatronics appeared their age.

"What's going on here?" Mike jabbed a thumb at Pirate Cove. The curtain remained pulled, and an Out of Order sign situated outside. "Foxy's broken?"

"Sort of. Well, yeah, long story short. I don't know what Scott was thinking when he left, but all four animatronics were disassembled and jumbled in a big pile when I opened on Saturday morning. What a disaster. We had a birthday party to host that day, and _no_ attractions aside from the game corner." Fritz sighed in recalled annoyance. "We got Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica all working again, but Foxy still isn't a hundred percent. Until someone comes over from the Norton location to give him a look, he's just going to have to stay behind his curtain."

"No complaints, there." Foxy was still a relatively new attraction when Jeremy worked this job. He was apparently too cute and friendly-looking, since child patrons took complete advantage of that and tore him apart into the pile of barely recognizable metal dubbed the Mangle. The very parts of the Mangle that may have been responsible for Jeremy's injury were reused to build the revamped pirate Foxy. Morbid curiosity overtook Mike for a moment. He'd never seen the Mangle, nor Foxy, and he'd like to look into the eyes of the thing that took his best friend away from him.

On second thought. . .

"Hey, whatever happened to the other animatronics?" Mike asked. "There were way more than these at one time, right?"

"I'm not sure where exactly they wound up. I haven't seen them in years."

"What about Golden Bonnie? Golden Freddy?"

"Gosh, I haven't seen them since. . .'87, I guess. They went along with the others, to shed as much of the restaurant's bad image as we could, as Scott put it. Golden Freddy of course hurt that kid pretty badly back in '83 or '84, and Golden Bonnie. . .well."

Mention of Freddy put Mike off for a moment on considering Golden Bonnie's fate. It was unfortunate that some creep decided to use the suit to lure children into the back.

"I think that's basically all you need to know about the place, until Tuesday night-slash-Wednesday morning rolls around. Like I said, Scott's going to be a lot more helpful than I am. I'm only here in the day time." Fritz chuckled, a nervous sound to Mike. "And just so you know, Management doesn't tolerate lateness, so I would strongly advise that you not only punch in before midnight, but be in the office by then. If we go back there now, I'll give you a key. . ."

* * *

Just like that, Mike had a job. Were it not at Freddy Fazbear's, he'd consider it strange that he didn't even have to interview. He couldn't remember if the same were true for Jeremy six years ago.

And Scott was gone. Fritz mentioned that Scott was doing the night security job, so did that mean he'd accepted a demotion within the chain of command? Perhaps that was why, while Mike kept a constant eye on the employment advertisements for something better than his current deal, he failed to ever see this ad before now. Scott, after being there for so many years, could keep a handle on things. Or maybe, as Mike hoped, things had cooled down.

It hadn't sunk in yet for Mike, what he slated to do come Wednesday's wee hours. He was going to be locked inside that building for six hours a night, five nights a week, until the restaurant finally closed for good a week before Christmas. This might not be the same building as where his brother got hurt, and the animatronic responsible was nowhere to be seen, but the creepiness still existed. More disturbing, he would be doing the exact same job that destroyed the Jeremy that Mike knew. What if Foxy was just as dangerous as the Mangle? At least this location had doors on the office, that Mike could shut himself off from the rest of the pizzeria with. Jeremy never had that luxury.

Speaking of him, it was hard for Mike to justify coming out of the house today without popping in for a visit. It'd been a few weeks since he last passed by the Fitzgerald abode. Losing his job threw his schedule quite out of whack.

Tina Fitzgerald, Jeremy's mother, answered the door. She gave him a warm smile before making room for him to step into the house. "Come in! I was actually just thinking about you, wondering how you've been doing."

"Fine," was always Mike's answer. He wasn't going to tell Tina about his employment status if he didn't need to. She'd become a second mom to him in the past, when his own family fell apart. From fifteen years old until Mike dropped out of high school in the fall of his senior year, he called this trailer home. Jeremy became a second brother to Mike, after Julian and Mark distanced themselves in the aftermath of Freddy's death. After Jeremy's accident though, Mike had no choice but to back off from the Fitzgeralds. Jeremy wasn't well enough to take care of himself, and Tina had her hands full with him. Their family struggled with finances too, now that Tina could no longer work, so Mike couldn't even forget his guilt long enough to accept something like a dinner invitation. Every meal counted in this household, for those who actually belonged to it.

"Jeremy's in his room, if you wanted to say hello."

Mike passed down the tiny hallway, first by the office on the right that had once been converted into his temporary bedroom. Jeremy's was the next door, before the bathroom. Some sort of sports broadcast sounded through the flimsy walls. After knocking, well aware he wouldn't get an invitation to come in, Mike admitted himself.

"Hi." Jeremy laid on his bed, remote control in hand. Sure enough, basketball players darted back and forth on the TV screen. Their shoes squeaked nearly constantly.

There was a chair crammed into the corner, that Mike usually sat in when he came. He moved the few articles of clothing that had landed there on their way to the laundry basket beside. There still wasn't a time when Mike came over that Jeremy's appearance didn't make his stomach drop and flip. His forehead appeared tiny, but only because it now started so shortly above his brow. It extended back much like the curvature of a normal skull, until parallel to the ears. There, it was plain to see that something, once upon a time, had taken a chunk out of this shadow of Mike's former friend.

"Hey, man. Remember me?"

"I'm supposed to be excited to see you, right?"

"Good to know you still feel that way," Mike said, making Jeremy chuckle. "Yeah, we've been friends for a damn long time."

"Thanks for coming to visit, then."

"Sure."

Would Freddy resemble Jeremy, had he survived? There was only so much the doctors could do to fix his head's shape. Even with all the bandages on, when Freddy still laid in the hospital, his head was more obviously a flattened type of egg. The doctors showed the family a diagram of the sources for Freddy's seemingly random internal bleed when all was said and done, and no one could ignore that the points resembled Golden Freddy's teethmarks.

"Where are you working these days?" Jeremy turned off the TV so that he could actually visit with Mike. He had too much trouble with distractions, and it took years for Tina to train him to ditch those in order to pay attention to his surroundings.

"I just got a new job today, actually. No more mopping floors for me."

Jeremy pointed a finger at Mike, one eye squinted. "Mike, right?"

"That's me."

"Oh my god, I can't believe I didn't recognize you." Jeremy chuckled. "Man, my memory really sucks. You're doing okay? You know I worry about you."

"Do you? How come?"

"I don't know. I'm sure you're up to something worth worrying about."

Jeremy had no actual idea. "Are you working tonight?"

With that question, Jeremy automatically checked his wrist for a watch he hadn't worn in years. "Yeah, I think I am."

Of course, he actually wasn't. One of the results of Jeremy's accident was complete lack of knowledge as to how he wound up in this state. In his head, he still worked at the old location of Freddy Fazbear's. Thankfully, only prompt ever brought that to his mind. He had no actual plan or motivation to leave this room and make a living for himself. The only reason he ate was because Tina put food in front of him. It never mattered how hungry he was.

"How's it going there, at Fazbear's?"

"Oh, fine. Once you get used to the animatronics at night, it's really not that bad."

"Is it weird, when they walk around?"

"Kind of. You've just gotta know the tricks. They give me this Freddy Fazbear head, right? I just put it on and poof! I'm magically invisible to them."

Mike needed to keep that in mind. Perhaps he could find one laying around, to use similarly. "It works?"

"Like a charm. What did Scott tell me? That if they see me without a suit on, they'll think I'm an endoskeleton. It's against the rules for those to be without suits—might wreck the magic for the kids, you know—so the other animatronics do the clean up. Helps keep the company from hiring just one more guy, I bet. Such a bunch of cheapskates. I already only make minimum wage. Betcha they'd give me a pay-cut, if they could."

Mike laughed. Out came the Jeremy he once knew. How long would it last?

"Oh well. I'm not an idiot with those animatronics. I keep the Freddy Fazbear head on as much as I can, keep the vents sealed, and that old strobe light my grandpa gave me comes in super handy for the hallway. It's all good."

"Right."

"D'y'ever worry about _me?_ "

"Why? You've got it all under control."

Jeremy liked that answer. He smiled as the TV came back on. The basketball game had progressed along, the previous losers pulling ahead. Mike cared probably as much as Jeremy did. With his distraction returned though, Mike faded away into the background.

It'd been like this too with Freddy, in his last few days. He wasn't much up to watch TV, unable to see and all, but he could sort of carry on a conversation. He'd turn his head in the direction Mike's voice came from. The injuries made it difficult to recognize the person beneath the bandages. A new lack of fear alone changed everything.

In ways, Mike was happy to never know the extent of Freddy's brain damage. Maybe, in a way, it was better for Mom to not be tied to the house taking care of her son like Tina did now. Mike personally witnessed the alternative for the Schmidt family's fate, and it really wasn't much better. He only wished he could believe like Mom and Dad that Freddy was now in a better place.

Mike didn't like to think about it now, since it was practically irrelevant, but he and Jeremy had a massive falling out over Jeremy's job as the security guard. He could quietly tolerate that Jeremy went to work there, since it didn't necessitate _his_ presence, and the rent on their apartment had to be paid. He made a point never to ask how it went though, preferring instead to quietly sit beside Jeremy on their puny sundeck at 6:30 in the morning, where they sucked back a few beers before heading to bed.

Jeremy waited until he had something important to say about Freddy Fazbear's, before bringing it up in conversation. "You know, I think that place might be haunted."

"Haunted?" Mike's stomach sunk at the very thought.

"Yeah, like. I don't know. Lots of weird shit goes on around there. It's almost like the animatronics are smarter than they should be. And I don't mean smart as in like a calculator or some shit. I mean like, this technology shouldn't be rotting away in a pizza joint in southwest Virginia. It should be protecting Fort Knox."

"Okay."

"Except it's not. And tons of weird shit's been going on around there. Not right now, I guess, but last summer. That whole investigation thing? They're saying that Vince did it, but I dunno, man. Sure he's quiet, but you know how you just get feelings about people? I don't think he could even hurt a fly. He's a goddamn vegetarian, for God's sake."

"What's that got to do with the place being haunted?"

"I think those kids are still around. Maybe in the animatronics." Jeremy paused. "And that's not all, man. Golden Freddy? He can't move at all, but there's this laughter. Whose idea was it anyway, to make those things able to laugh? Golden Freddy's is so distorted and low-toned that sometimes it sounds more like. . .crying."

That was all it took for Mike to understand what exactly Jeremy insinuated. He wouldn't hear about it, forcibly so. Generally, back in those days, Mike was as quiet as his current self. When it came to Freddy however, bare mention sent him flying off the handle. Jeremy to this day still boasted a crooked nose from that particular fight. Mike regretted it immensely, given the horrors that soon awaited the only friend he had left in the world. At least now, steep in the aftermath, Jeremy couldn't remember it unless prompted. His mind—Freddy's too—had been damaged to the point where they practically matched the animatronics in intellect.

Mike stood, once he'd watched enough basketball. At this point in his stay, he'd grown completely invisible. He experienced the same phenomenon in the trailer's main area. Tina sat at the kitchen table, beyond the living room, with her face in her hands. Quietly sobbing. Mike didn't say anything to her. He just let himself out.


	3. First Night

Nervousness was a given, as Tuesday night rolled closer to an end. Mike found it easier, after visiting Freddy Fazbear's during the daytime, to see this so far as just a regular job. Maybe Jeremy was wrong, about the goings-on in this restaurant. Another thing to consider was that this location was a completely different one than what Jeremy monitored. If there were strange noises as the building settled, they couldn't have followed the franchise to this end of Main. The Mangle no longer existed. There hadn't been any mishaps here for years. Whether or not they soon closed, Fazbear Entertainment found a healthy balance between safety and excitement.

Where nerves regarding the location dimmed, Mike concerned more over his lack of knowledge about the job. He wouldn't have anyone to call for help in the middle of the night, should something go wrong or he needed a pointer. Even reminder that Scott's tapes would be waiting for him did nothing to alleviate the butterflies in his stomach. Bundled up for the cold walk, he left home earlier than anticipated. There was no harm in showing up early. Management made it very clear he wouldn't be paid for any extra time outside midnight and six o'clock, but no matter. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to be.

To his surprise, the parking lot wasn't empty at 11:30. One car situated in the employee section. Mike slowed when the driver door opened, unsure, although relaxed when he saw it was only Fritz.

"I didn't expect you to be here, tonight," Mike greeted him with.

Fritz shoved his hands into his coat pockets, shoulders hunched against the chilly night. "Well, I figured I'd swing by and make sure you made it. Probably wouldn't hurt to show you how best to conserve power. Remind you to use the restroom if you need to, all that. You're not going to want to wander around the building once midnight hits."

"Oh," Mike said as they meandered toward the entrance, "that reminds me. I heard something about being able to wear a Freddy Fazbear head, so that I become invisible to the animatronics?"

Fritz furrowed his brow. "Where did you hear that from?"

"Old rumour." Something subconscious kept Mike at bay, from being upfront with Fritz. He didn't entirely believe yet that Fritz was being honest about this place, whether or not that meant he was aware that something foul festered beneath the surface. He'd worked here long enough, possibly since before Jeremy even started. How could he give Mike a full tour of this place while ignoring its history? He offered no warning about coming here on time each night, in order to avoid the animatronics on his way to the office. He said nothing, about Jeremy, Freddy, or any of the kids that went missing. So then why would Mike tell Fritz about his relation to some of the victims?

"Well, yeah, it's a possibility. I never even thought about it, to tell you the truth. Scott had such a handle on this place at night, that it's a little difficult to gauge what you might need." Fritz chuckled. "Guess it's a good thing I came, then."

Whether he did or not, Mike would have hunted something down before taking up in the office. It was a little disconcerting, that Fritz never even considered mentioning it. Would Mike have been safe, had it never come up?

"You can probably tell that I haven't been a manager for very long," Fritz bashfully admitted. "Scott worked nights, but he was still mostly in charge of the place. I only took his position after he left. Seniority I guess, right? Too bad I'm only going to have two months or so of experience. I've already started looking into where to go afterward. Maybe it's finally time to try and get on at one of the mines. Hard to want to, after that explosion in Norton last year, though. . ."

Fritz was a talker, when nervous. Mike took the initiative to admit them into the building. No alarm sounded. Between him, the animatronics, and the reputation they bore, that probably wasn't necessary. It was just one more fee.

"Let's uh, let's get that head first, then. Shall we?" Fritz jerked a thumb toward the stage area. "Twenty-five minutes, until the animatronics come back online for night mode."

The restaurant would've been a lot less creepy, could they turn on some lights. The flashlight Mike had the forethought to bring came in handy. Fritz jumped when the beam of light outlined his silhouette against the floor.

"Sorry," he laughed it off. "This place is something totally different, without the kids. It sounds really empty."

They ascended the short set of stairs leading them up to where Bonnie, Chica, and Freddy stood in dark silence. Mike couldn't ignore how wide of a berth Fritz gave them. Unnerved, Mike did the same. It went without saying that, while Fritz rooted around, Mike would stand at the backstage door and keep an eye on the animatronics. Nothing happened, of course. As they headed down the west hall toward the office, Mike felt a little stupid to play into Fritz's paranoia.

"All right, so, basics." Fritz nudged a small basket filled with cassette tapes sitting by the fan. "These are what Scott left for you. Don't run out of power, otherwise you're going to be stuck in here until eight. These doors won't open again until the main power switch gets turned back over. The doors, by the way, come with open and close circuits, not your standard issue locks. Keep them shut until the animatronics return to their standard positions for day mode. I can't stress that enough. That being said, if you have to go to the bathroom, now is the time."

"I will, once you head out."

"Great. Hm, what else? Here are the camera feeds, obviously. All you need to do is watch, make sure nobody gets in and that nothing goes wrong. You're not expected to implement repairs in the middle of the night, but leave a note for me in the morning and I'll make sure that whatever's wrong gets fixed. We used to have a repairman on call, to come in at nine if anything went haywire with the animatronics, but since we need to stretch the budget until the end of the year, we had to terminate his contract. If these guys are going away into decommission and storage come January, there's no point in upkeep."

For all Fritz's apprehension, he sounded legitimately sad for that reality. Mike supposed, after six or more years working here, he'd developed an attachment. So had the kids in town, who were too young to understand Freddy Fazbear's dark past. All they would remember was an oversized chicken offering them cupcakes, a bunny playing the guitar, a bear singing them Happy Birthday, and a fox that rode the high seas like they wished _they_ could, as pirates. Objectively, if Mike struck from the record his bad experiences with this restaurant, he might feel the same. He'd enjoyed it too, when Mom and Dad used to bring him here before Freddy came along.

"Other than all that, I'm not really sure what else to tell you. The desk lamp takes up less power than the room's main light, so I'd recommend using that instead. Don't be alarmed if the animatronics come down the hallway. They have spacial restrictions during the day, mostly to keep them out of the restrooms, but at night they can go anywhere."

"Right."

Hands on his hips, Fritz peered around the small room, for prompt of anything else to share before making his coveted escape. "I guess with that, I'll head out. Good luck. Maybe give me a call when you're done, let me know how it went."

Since Mike had to go to the bathroom anyway, he walked Fritz to the door. Fritz seemed to appreciate that, bidding Mike goodbye before jogging to his car as quickly as he dared over the slick walkways outside. Mike locked the entrance behind him, then turned to face the restaurant at large.

Fritz was definitely correct, about the aura this place put off when it wasn't full of people. Mike didn't realize how big it was either, without so many bodies filling it up. This must be what it was like to walk through a carnival after hours. All this colourful garb shouldn't sit in the darkness. These halls shouldn't be so quiet. It wouldn't seem half as creepy if music covered Mike's echoing footsteps.

11:47. Thirteen minutes until the animatronics entered night mode. In order to save power, Mike kept to his flashlight. It situated on the counter while he made use of a urinal, and then guided his way out of the restroom hallway. As precaution, he turned it off for a moment before emerging into the dining area. His eyes adjusted to the light streaming in from the parking lot, only to see that Chica, Freddy, and Bonnie indeed remained in the exact same position on-stage.

Mike probably wouldn't be so nervous right now, had Fritz not come in. He picked up Fritz' nervous energy all for himself, keeping a near-steady gaze on the animatronics as he headed past the kitchen for the office.

Switches completed the door circuits, bringing them down on both sides. Mike never worked somewhere with office doors like that, although he supposed they came in handy back when this place actually made money. A hefty safe situated in the corner, prime target for someone desperate.

Mike hesitated to make himself comfortable, since he had a difficult time considering this space his. After pacing slightly to familiarize himself with all the posters on the walls, he plopped down in the chair. There were only three minutes left until his actual shift started. He'd brought a book, just in case the night got boring, but for now he was curious. What did Jeremy see, every night that he worked for the franchise? What did Scott have to put up with? Leaning forward on the desk, Mike watched the stage intensely as midnight crept up. In the latter half of 11:59, his heart rate picked up. When the clock turned over to the next day, he barely cared to blink.

Nothing happened. Not immediately, anyway. Mike expected that at the strike of midnight, Chica, Bonnie, and Freddy Fazbear would snap to life. The feeds were grainy, but he could see subtle changes if he strained his eyes enough. Lights turned on in the animatronics eyes. Chica's head slowly turned, as if she studied the dining area. Thoughts were most definitely not a robotic phenomenon, but as a human being, Mike couldn't help projecting. Was she confused, to find herself awake with no one to entertain? No one to offer cupcakes to? Where was any hint of noise that she could drift toward?

The only source of noise Mike had in the office was the fan. He couldn't compromise on it though, given how hot and stuffy this room became without it. Opening the high, tiny window would probably make even more racket, thanks to wind and passing vehicles. It was only an option Mike would consider if six o'clock neared and he needed that final bump to get him through. Even if the animatronics couldn't reach him as the noise drew them in, Mike would much rather avoid seeing them if at all possible. There were still windows to the hallways through which he could be viewed. Blinds apparently weren't in the budget.

Chica and Bonnie stayed in the dining area. Their night mode didn't seem much different than day mode. A little annoyed that so much tense build-up led to this actuality, Mike peered into the basket containing the tapes Scott made for him. 'First Night' was clearly labelled.

"Hello, hello? Uh, I wanted to—" Mike hit the pause button on the cassette player provided to him. Too loud. On the camera feeds, Bonnie and Chica stilled, heads turned in direction of the office. When they carried on their previous routes, Mike released the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

Before hitting play again, he turned the volume down to zero. Once the tape started again, he adjusted for a level that wouldn't draw unwanted attention from the animatronics. ". . .get settled in on your first night. I actually worked in that office before you. I'm finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact. So I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothing to worry about. You'll do fine.

"Let's see, first, there's an introductory greeting from the company that I'm supposed to read: 'Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, a magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. Remember to smile: you're the face of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.'

"Blah, blah, kind of pointless, I know. You've got no one to smile for in the middle of the night, except for the animatronics. They get a little quirky at night, so they might even smile back." Scott chuckled. "Sorry. That sounded a lot funnier in my head.

"So, just be aware, the animatronics do tend to wander a bit. They're left in free roaming mode at night, since their servos lock up if they get turned off for too long. They used to be allowed to walk around during the day too, but then there was The Bite of '87." An awkward pause complemented a wash of recognition through Mike's stomach. ". . .Yeah. It's-it's amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe, you know?

"I don't mean to scare you, though. That was truly a freak accident. Years ago. Nothing like that's ever happened again since, and we're going to keep it that way. The animatronics aren't malicious, but some of their programming might be of danger to you if you're not cautious. It's like that in any job, right? I'm going to tell you some of the same things I'm sure Fritz told you, like to keep your doors closed. If you have to open them for any reason, avoid playing with them, since they're a horrible drain on the nightly power budget. It's really just best if you stay put for the six hour shift. You can hold it that long, can't you? I eventually learned." Scott chuckled again. "Heh. . .sorry. Something about this place teaches you how to have a sense of humour. One day, if you stay on long enough, you'll listen back through these and we'll have a grand ol' time together.

"You must be wondering, what kind of programming do the animatronics have, that might put you in danger? The thing is, after hours everything that moves becomes an animatronic, in their eyes. Their child-recognition software and connection to the national sex offender registry runs only during the daytime, since obviously there's no need for them when no patrons are around. In order for those to run smoothly in the daytime, they need to be powered down at night. We tried to keep them on all night but there were some. . .close calls. No one got hurt, mind you. But it's not something we'd ever risk again. Think of that portion of their personalities as akin to a child. If they don't get their sleep, they get just as cranky."

Scott laughed openly, with this joke. Mike certainly still didn't find it funny. In the lull, he checked on the animatronics' locations, again. Chica roamed near the restaurant entrance, while Bonnie weaved through the dining area's tables. Freddy remained on stage. Mike had no idea if Foxy was even capable of movement right now, but his curtain remained undisturbed.

"The animatronics have more. . .I call it reptilian programming, which is their absolute basics. Things like walking. One thing that saved Management from hiring a couple more dayworkers is their recognition to right the other animatronics. If Bonnie's head goes askew for instance, and none of the workers notice, then Chica will straighten it back out. Similarly, they understand that every costume needs an endoskeleton, and every endoskeleton needs a costume. It's up to them to make sure there aren't any endoskeletons walking around outside of costume, or costumes laying around on the floor. It's disturbing for the kids, right? They want to believe that Chica, Bonnie, Freddy, and Foxy are magical creatures, not robots. It's been years too, since we left any empty costumes just laying around the restaurant. I'm sure you're familiar with the arrest made back in the summer of '87, when Vince Hart was busted for luring kids into the back while dressed up as Golden Bonnie. Yeah. Not the franchise's greatest moment.

"Coming back to the animatronics' behaviour though, I know what you're thinking. It's really dangerous, to have these robots walking freely around the building with that kind of programming. It's honestly the best it's going to get. Any attempts to better them can't seem to get past that. It's all right, though. You're still safe. Just do what Fritz and I tell you, about staying in your office with the doors shut, and you'll be fine. I used to tell old hires that wearing one of their heads would deter the animatronics from you, but it only works conditionally, so I'm a little hesitant to bring it up. That's better left for when you're more comfortable working here. I might go over it tomorrow night, or something. To be honest, I haven't made a plan of what to say, on these tapes. It's been years since I trained somebody, since I've been the only one here at night. I left Fritz with all the tapes I've ever done though, so you're welcome to go through them all at your leisure. There might be things on them that I'll forget to mention now. Also, a lot of outdated information. We have a lot less animatronics, different policies. . .all that. Uh, might be kind of hard to sort through it all, but hey. What else are you going to do, for six hours a night?

"Anyway, first day should be a breeze. I'll chat with you tomorrow. Keep an eye on those cameras for anything unusual, and remember to keep the doors shut. Conserve your power." Scott paused. "All right, good night."

Freddy Fazbear's head still situated against Mike's leg, in the silence following the message's end. It didn't feel like so much of a security blanket anymore. What should Mike do, if the animatronics came down the hallway? Even if they couldn't enter the office, he didn't at all like the idea of them seeing him through the windows and loitering there until their day modes took back over. At least for now, he didn't need to worry about it. Chica and Bonnie were the only ones that moved as required by their servomotors, and they generally stayed within the parameters of their day modes.

The book Mike brought to pass the time was completely useless. In order to tell if anything went wrong with the animatronics, he needed to recognize what was normal. Rather than bury his nose in the final chapter of Hyperion, as he'd hoped to do, Mike stared at the animatronics on screen and tried to learn their movements.

Chica kept her beak frequently open. Mike would probably never see her twist her head the way she did now, during the daytime. More than likely, she had parts in her neck that frequently seized. She also tended to spend more time on the kitchen side of the restaurant. At one point, she entered it and knocked some of the dishes around. Uncertain if this was something dysfunctional about the animatronic, Mike marked it for Fritz in the morning. Also, that the kitchen camera's feed was interrupted. Mike could hear everything just fine, but not a glimmer of the room manifested beyond stray bits of static.

This was early for Mike to develop a sense of humour, unsure as he remained about this place, but he chuckled lightly as Bonnie approached the kitchen as well. The noise drew him in, to stand stupidly by the doorway as Chica's instructional code failed to free her from the boxy, cluttered room. Was this a common occurrence? Did the cooks need to pick up after Chica every morning, before rolling out a day's worth of dough? One would think, they'd just lock the door by now.

Since there wasn't much else to do that fell within the parameters of paying attention to his job, Mike wound up keeping a log. Chica stumbled out of the kitchen about an hour later, knocking Bonnie as she passed. Bonnie surprised Mike, by catching himself before falling over. So far, their behaviour lent him the impression of walking legs without a brain. There was a complex slew of decisions necessary to make a move like that.

Just as quickly as apparent intelligence manifested though, it was gone. Bonnie turned in Chica's direction and followed her through the tables. The animatronics seemed mindful of where chair and table legs were, but perhaps those parameters were programmed in. If one chair was left out of place at the end of operation hours, the animatronics would probably trip and break their faces. Granted, there were replacement heads in the backstage area, but as every company's head office was fond of pushing, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

Any hint of tension in Mike's shoulders disappeared by the time two o'clock rolled around without any hint of incident. He was starting to feel angry at himself, for buying any of the stories that circulated about this place. This is what Scott did for six years, basking in the admiration that his coworkers held for him. It was a cheap lift to infamy.

An idle daydream of obtaining that for himself carried Mike forward on his boredom for a little while. Only when Bonnie migrated in direction of the west hall around quarter-to-four did Mike sit up straighter and reabsorb some of the tension he'd successfully shed. Bonnie showed no sign of turning back. Not until he passed the supply closet did Mike accept that a decision needed to be made. Scott's confidence in the Freddy head reflected now in Mike, as he glanced down at it. No good. Bonnie's slow footsteps were audible now. Mike was rooted to his chair. Panic slid down his back and chest like ice. These things weren't harmless. He was in danger. He needed to move _right now_.

A flurry flicked the desk lamp off, before Mike dropped to the floor and scuttled backwards underneath the desk. With his back pressed to the wall and knees drawn to his chest, all the measures to ascertain his safety seemed completely flimsy. Did Bonnie just wander? Was Mike overreacting? Probably, to both. The logical area of his brain called himself an idiot, but adrenaline didn't care so long as it saved his life.

The footsteps stopped, just short of the door. Eyes clenched shut as he hoped Bonnie left, Mike imagined his silhouette illuminated in bare light, through the window. Could the animatronics see in the dark? Could they really see at all? Two more footsteps. Closer. Mike emitted a noise of surprise when something rapped against the door. Not just an accident. Couldn't be. Nothing knocked randomly in such a telltale pattern.

No, you can't come in. Please go away.

Silence.

Oh, this was ridiculous. Mike was a grown man. He shouldn't hide from animatronics that couldn't reach him anyway. For all his cockiness and shaky confidence, he definitely needed to work on this portion of his attitude. It defied reason, even when taking into consideration all the grief these characters were associated with. Considering that Mike was still here almost two-thirds through the night, with minimal strife, he was actually doing pretty well.

Mike calmed down once Bonnie's footsteps retreated down the hallway. Chica was back in the kitchen, kicking around the stuff she'd knocked earlier, so Bonnie's attention focused away from the locked door he'd found. Animatronics didn't have attention spans, Mike reminded himself. If he wanted to succeed at this job, he needed to stop humanizing them.

Thankfully, that was the only fit of fear Mike suffered himself, for the night. Just when Bonnie hovered too uncomfortably close to the west hall opening, a five-to-six executive order in their programming set the animatronics on their return to their resting positions. At six o'clock on the dot, the lights behind their eyes went out, and their heads slumped against their chests.

Mike sighed. He'd survived his first night.

He had his jacket on already, when he remembered Fritz's request to give him a call. After seeking out his name on the contact list, Mike dialled him in. The phone on the other end only rang once before Fritz answered with a tense greeting.

"Hey, it's Mike." Mike yawned. "I'm just heading home."

"Everything went all right?"

"Yeah, it was fine. Bonnie and Chica were the only ones that really roamed. Chica made a mess in the kitchen, by the sounds of it. Is that normal?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe? Scott didn't mention anything on the tapes?"

"No. Maybe he cleaned up after her. When do the cooks usually come in?"

"They start getting everything ready for the day around eight."

"Right. . .ask them for me, later? If Scott took care of it, I suppose I could too at the end of the night."

Fritz chuckled. "A go-getter, huh? Damn fine, after getting through the night so easily. Too bad this place is closing down so soon. I think you'd have already earned yourself a permanent position here."

"I do what I can."

With Fritz heading back to bed for a couple more hours before having to rise for work, Mike figured he might as well do the same. He raised both office doors, checked his surroundings for any messes or belongings he'd left, and headed for the door. Even though he could see the three animatronics on stage, he watched out for them. Foxy hadn't moved all night, but he could still be anywhere. His metal shone under the flashlight, when Mike checked through the curtain's gap from a distance. Everything seemed to be in order.

The sun had yet to rise. After zipping up his coat and stowing his hands in the pockets, Mike headed for home.


End file.
